


The Lost Prodigy

by PitaGilNuma



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 2P Hetalia, Brotherhood, F/M, Metalhead! Greece, bildungsroman, metal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:00:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24944986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PitaGilNuma/pseuds/PitaGilNuma
Summary: Being a prodigy is both a blessing and curse.Nikolaos is one of those children born with a flexible and complex minds. He is a talented pianist that enjoys logic and mathematics. But after a few smacks, he finally leaves the home of his perfectionist mother. As he leaves his previous lifestyle, the young raven-head faces challenges in adapting a new environment.Follow his journey as he grows up into a new person.{take note: this 2ptalia universe is different from what most people imagine. the characters are not murderous and dark instead, they represent the other side of the countries such as their countercultures and stereotypes hima does not cover. this fic also intermingles with the human au}
Relationships: Greece/Female Finland
Kudos: 3





	The Lost Prodigy

**Author's Note:**

> Names:  
> Nikolaos- 2p Greece  
> Adamandia- 2p Ancient Greece  
> Kostas- 2p Cyprus

His fingers press the keys according to the song's tempo. One thing he has in mind is to never disappoint his mother. Nikolaos is experiencing the painful scars on his wrists. His mother smacks them whenever she feels dissatisfied with his performance. ‘I have to be perfect.’ Says the voice in his head. The young boy spends his childhood under a strict routine. 

He cannot have fun because his mother Adamandia removes the word from his vocabulary. Her golden eyes watch her son's piano practice. “Remember, I did not invest my money on failures.” She has the ruler on her hand, ready to hit the little raven-head's wrists after this.

Nikolaos finishes his practice, he relaxes his tensed hands. “Did I do well, mother?” Underneath the emotionless mask is a terrified child. It's like his mindset is programmed to fear failure. “Your tempo is off. The way you play is sloppy. Is this how you will perform in the competition?! Such disgrace!” Adamandia fumes with rage because her child prodigy does poorly. The little raven wants to screech back at her but he cannot, it is disrespectful. 

The prodigy wonders why he cannot experience the simple life of a child. “Give me your hands.” He slowly exposes his wrists to her. The woman hits them with a ruler. “When will you play that piece right?” Adamandia asks him, she stares down on him with her golden irises. They have an ominous glow that can pierced anyone's heart. “Tomorrow.” Nikolaos feels like crying but he needs to keep his composure.

His young brother sneaks in the hallway and stays hidden behind the door of the piano room. Kostas is jealous of the attention his mother is pouring to his older brother. “If I am as special as my brother— no, more special than my brother, mother will focus on me.” He whispers to himself. When the golden door knob starts twisting, Kostas runs back to his room.

Nikolaos leaves the room in pain. He winces at the sting of his cuts. He hears the echoing sounds of small steps running. “Kostas is eavesdropping again…” He mumbles. He knows how much his brother covets the position he is in. ‘My dear brother, if only you knew the hardships of winning our mother's cold heart.’

Those words he wishes to tell but knowing Kostas, he will shut out the truth. The twelve year old shakes his head and decides to go to the bathroom. A soak in the bathtub may help him drain the stress and numb his aching wrists.

*******

No matter how much he tries, Nikolaos is always aware of his actions, his pursuits and his envy. Kostas checks the hall to see if his older brother is gone. “The coast is clear!” Kostas pretends to be a spy, his hands imitate the shape of a gun. He moves silently this time. The six year old quietly opens the door to the piano room. The child gets himself in and watches his mother in awe. She plays the piano perfectly. After she ends her piece, Kostas claps in appreciation. “Mother that sounds great!”

She hears her youngest child's praise and she smiles. Adamandia faces him with that fake cheeriness. “Of course, my son! That's the result of talent and practice.” She ruffles his head. He giggles in response, unaware of what she truly is.

“Mama, am I special like my brother?” A risky question to ask. Kostas is very eager to know the answer.

“Well, you are special in your own way.” She whispers to his ear with her sweet voice. It gives false warmth to an innocent child. Kostas reacts with glee and goes up to his room with joy. He feels the victory as Adamandia does with her manipulative tactics. She sweet-talks him with ease so she can have him by her side. His loyalty is her weapon to getting what she wants. ‘It's best to nurture his trust at a young age.’

*******

Nikolaos gets out of the bathtub and drains the water. He feels cold and numb. The boy is about to enter his teen stage next year. He yearns for freedom. The preteen rubs the towel to his skin to dry his wet body. His exposed scars sting his skin, Nikolaos feels like losing control of his hands. His cry for pain is pushed inside his system.

“I—” the young boy's vocal chords shake. “I need to stay strong. Crying will bring me nowhere!” A small inspirational self talk keeps him alive. If he chooses the path of ceasing to exist, it is his great loss. Nikolaos picks up his bathrobe and proceeds to the dressing room.

When he is picking his pajamas, Kostas comes up to him with a grin on his face. The older brother rolls his eyes and sighs. He has to deal with a child that is six years his junior. “What is up with that smile of yours… Brother?” There is frustration in his voice. The younger brother reacts with laughter. What Kostas thinks his conversation with his mother is a full victory he can brag to his brother's face.

“Mama praises me more than you do! She calls me special without the slightest of getting punished! Unlike you.” There is too much pride within him when he says it to Nikolaos. The mother has instilled her narcissistic values to her child. The preteen knows how toxic his mother is.

“I can't believe you fall for shit like that. Mother gives birth to us so she can keep her bank account alive! That bitch only praises you for her personal interests!” He says a string of cuss words which makes his younger brother gasp.

Kostas shakes his head in disagreement, denying his mother's corrupted intentions. “That is not true! You're lying! You're lying!” He covers his ears to deafen himself from the harsh reality. The six year old is definitely on her side.

Nikolaos watches his brother run to the exit of their dressing room. He breathes out his stress and continues his pajama picking. There are many colors and patterns to choose from but he always ends up wearing the same one, a black pajama. It resonates with his mood today. He then checks himself on the mirror, the pajama matches his stressful haggard look for a child. “Child services would pick me up by now staring at my sickly physique.” It is a wish he has been waiting to happen.


End file.
